


chains around my neck

by Blue_Pluto



Series: break my heart universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV George Weasley, POV Harry Potter, Ron Weasley-centric, slight universe alteration, uhhh fred and george are both ready to fucking Murder someone i'm not kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Pluto/pseuds/Blue_Pluto
Summary: "The second thing he noticed was Fred, kneeling next to an almost lifeless person slumped against the wall.A person with red hair.Ron.“No.” George gasped.He ran forward, crashing down on his knees next to his brothers. Fred was taking quick panicking breaths, his hand trembling inches from their brother’s unconscious form, too scared if he did anything he’d hurt him."-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-ron doesn't escape the snatchers unharmed. fred and george find him, and they'repissed
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley & Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley & Ron Weasley, George Weasley & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, pre/implied harry potter/ron weasley
Series: break my heart universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608337
Comments: 31
Kudos: 437





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pls heed the tags!! it's not super explicit but it is kinda dark!!

George followed Fred through the stairwell, wands drawn. They’d been part of an Order raid, one on a mansion-turned-Death-Eater-stronghold.

 _Been_ , being the key word. The fighting itself had ended hours ago, and after a night of tying up Death Eaters and rounding up wands, both twins were exhausted beyond belief. They should have been home in bed by now, snuggled up with breakfast waiting for them whenever they wanted. 

But instead they were traversing the depths of a weird, surprisingly not Malfoy owned, mansion that had been used as a Death Eater base less than a day ago. Bloody geniuses they were. 

The thing was… George had some sort of feeling, like a tug in his stomach. It was like he could tell _something_ was wrong, but he wasn't sure quite _what_. 

More concerning, was that Fred seemed to feel the same. 

When they realized that they both were feeling the same thing, it seemed important, infinitely more so then it had to either on their own. 

So, they followed that feeling. Straight to a strange door, and a staircase that went down seemingly for miles. They’d been walking nearly ten minutes, a tense silence between the two. 

George trailed back a bit, trying to check up the stairs with the dim light from his wand. If they were ambushed in here they were dead, with nowhere to hide and their backs turned they wouldn't have time to pull up shields. He stood there for a long while, trying to decide if he should put up a barrier charm just in case. He couldn't see anyone, but that didn’t mean much, the light from his wand so dim he could barely see the steps in front of him. 

So focused on somehow trying to force his eyes to see in the dark, George didn’t realize how far ahead Fred had gotten. 

“I found another door!” His brother called up to him. George started at how far away Fred sounded, and began down the stairs again. 

“Can you open it?” He asked, even though he knew logically it was an awful idea for Fred to go in alone, the feeling in his stomach told him the door needed to be opened _now_. It was like an odd-almost anxiety, but not exactly. George quickened his pace.

“Yeah just one…” Fred began, but his voice trailed off. 

“Fred?” George questioned. 

“Bloody fucking hell!” Fred cursed, as his footsteps started again in a run. 

George jerked, shocked. Fred sounded... _scared_. Really, truly terrified. 

George didn’t hesitate, running straight after his twin. Fred had been a good bit ahead of him, so it took him nearly a minute to reach the room, freezing just past the doorway. 

When he went through the doorway, the first thing that hit him was the smell. There was a diluted stink in the stairway, but here the pungent odor of bile, urine and _blood_ hit him square in the face. 

The second thing he noticed was Fred, kneeling next to an almost lifeless person slumped against the wall. 

A person with red hair. 

_Ron._

“ _No_.” George gasped. 

He ran forward, crashing down on his knees next to his brothers. Fred was taking quick panicking breaths, his hand trembling inches from their brother’s unconscious form, too scared if he did anything he’d hurt him. 

Ron looked like _shit_. It was obvious, even from just the dim light of their wands. Ron was soaked in blood, dry and encrusted into his skin and clothes. The blood covered him completely so George couldn't tell where it was coming from. 

Ron’s face contorted in pain, though he seemed to be asleep. Or unconscious. George felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest, so tight he couldn't breath. 

This was his _baby brother_ , looking like death itself, the only clue that he was alive the slight rise and fall of his chest. The same brother who they teased for loving a cruddy quidditch team, that they taught how to fly, that they’d pranked a thousand times. 

There may have only been a two year age gap, but he and Fred were Ron’s big brothers. It was their job to protect him, Ginny too. Just like Bill and Charlie had them. No one was allowed to so much as insult him in their presence, never mind how often they did it themselves. They’d threatened dozens of people when he heard them talking about Ron behind his back, even though they gossiped about him to his face. As much as they teased him, pranked him, made his ears flush red with rage, they were his protectors. It was their job. 

And they’d _failed._

George pulled Ron’s head and shoulders into his lap, pushing the blood soaked hair from his face when he got Ron in a hopefully comfortable position. 

“We need to wake him up.” He told Fred, voice urgent. 

Fred nodded shakily, pulling out his wand. “ _Aguamenti._ ” Fred whispered, his wand spilling a gentle stream of water onto their brother’s face. 

Ron jerked awake from the cold water, jangling the chains wrapped around his wrist and legs. George hadn't even noticed them before, but seeing them made pure rage churn in his stomach, the same rage flashing in his twin’s eyes. 

Ron sat up slightly, hacking at the water in his face. Fred flicked his wrist, stopping the flow of water before switching to a heating spell. Ron melted under the warmth, falling back onto George’s lap. 

Ron squinted up at them for a moment, eyes hazy and confused, like he couldn't recognize them, and didn’t trust them. But after a moment his face slackened, and Ron practically gaped up at them. 

“F-Fred? George?” He asked, eyes widening with disbelief and hoarse voice filling with hope. 

George forced a grin, his own throat thick. He kept stroking his brother’s hair, like their mother always did when they were ill. Fred kept dutifully drying their wet clothes, jaw set as his hands shook. 

“The two and only, at your service.” George managed to say past the lump in his throat. 

Ron gaped up at him for another moment, before his face fell. “Did they get you too?” He sounded crestfallen. George wanted to cry, why was he worrying about them when he was the one chained in a disgusting basement?

“They could never get us, Ronnie.” He said, trying his best to be reassuring despite how choked he felt. 

Ron must have been pretty out of it, because he didn’t call out the nickname. He slumped in relief, into his brother’s embrace, his eyes sliding shut. 

“Oi!” Fred snapped his fingers in front of Ron’s face, voice harsh despite the fear on his face. Ron cringed at it, cracking an eye open again. 

“You need to stay awake.” George said, gentler, but still commanding. Ron’s face contorted at the idea. George kept petting at his brother’s hair, realizing how hot the younger teen was under his fingers. 

“Ron, we need to know what happened. If anyone one else is here. Where you’re hurt.” Fred said, tense. 

Ron blinked several times, before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. “I’m the only one here. Some snatchers got me.” 

The twins shared a look. 

“What about Harry and Hermione?” George asked. 

Ron shut his eyes again, a rueful smile appearing on his face. “I left ‘em. Had a bit of a row with Harry and disaperated, couldn't find them once I got my head clear. They weren't waiting for me ‘cus I told em I wasn't coming back.” He chuckled darkly. 

“I guess I got what I deserved… hell of a Gryffindor ain’t I? Surprised the Sorting Hat put such a bloody selfish coward anywhere but Slytherin…” Ron slurred most of his words as he rambled, trailing off again in his delirium. 

“ _Ron_.” George said forcefully, jostling him back to consciousness. Ron was definitely out of it, but George couldn't let him sleep until he got more information. They needed to know if Ron had any injuries he could die from in the next few minutes, if there was anything so bad apperating could make it worse. 

He’d question Ron about the whereabouts of the others and why he left later, all he needed to know right now was that they didn’t need to rescue anyone else, just send Kingsly a patronus and take Ron from this place. 

Ron cracked an eye open at him, looking so exhausted and annoyed. It was an expression he’d seen hundreds of times, and seeing it on ron’s face while his little brother was soaked in his own blood made George want to cry. 

“What?” Ron’s voice incredibly rough, like how Ginny’s had been after that week she’d decided to sing everything she said as loud as she could. 

_He’d probably be screaming, not singing._ A voice supplied him. George clenched his jaw, but pushed it away. 

“Ron, where are you hurt? What happened? We need to know if you need medical attention here or if we can take you away to Bill’s.” Fred asked. He wasn't quite as gentle as George, not that either of them were particularly good at this, but Fred’s worry was still clear as day, and he had a sort of urgent tenderness about how he spoke. 

“Oh, ‘s that it?” Ron slurred, overly casual. He closed his eyes as he talked, exhausted. “S’me cuts and bruises... some broken bones too. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout apperating with. Though I already got splinched pretty bad… it keeps opening' up...” His right hand instinctively went to his left upper arm. 

George took a sharp breath, in sync with his twin. Ron’s hand was _destroyed_. His fingertips were raw and bloody, and his fingers were at _wrong_ angles. 

And his nails were missing. 

_“Motherfucker.”_ Geroge swore, struggling to contain his rising anger. 

Fred reached forward, and gently took their brother’s hand, though George could see him shaking in silent rage. 

“Ron. Who did this?” Fred asked, voice deadly calm. 

Ron blinked at him, struggling to stay awake. “I don’ r’member… ‘is not a big deal, really… they just got mad ‘cus I wouldn't tell them where Harry was….” 

George shut his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. His little brother had been tortured. And had not givin anything away, seeing as Harry’s death had yet to be plastered on every news board in existance and celebrated by the Death Eaters. 

He couldn't tell if he was more proud or horrified. 

Fred nodded sharply at Ron’s half-explanation. “Which one?” He asked, his voice somehow even harder and angrier. 

Each of Ron’s blinks was becoming longer. “I don’ remember which… there w’s a lot of em…” His eyes had shut completely, and he forced them open again. “Can I sleep yet?” 

“Yeah Ronnie, go to sleep.” George said quietly. Ron nodded, passing out almost instantly. 

George had only vague memories of Ron as a baby, being only two himself, but one, when Ron was two and ill with a fever stuck out in his mind. He and Fred kept sneaking in against their mother’s instructions, wanting to make baby Ron laugh. Instead they had ended up sitting by his crib with their mother, each with a tiny hand clasped in their own. 

This felt like some sick parallel to that. Ron, bloodied and tortured, possibly _dying,_ yet still clinging to his big brothers fifteen years later. 

Fred stared down at Ron a moment longer, then gently placed Ron’s hand back on his chest. He stood slowly, barely-contained rage flowing through him, his arms tense and shaking by his sides, then turned to the stairs, drawing his wand. 

“Where are you going?” George asked, even though he already knew the answer. 

Fred turned to face him, eyes full of frozen fury. “Where do you think? I’m gonna _kill_ those _fucking bastards_ who tortured our _little brother_.” 

George swallowed. He was so tempted to let him, to _join him_. “You don’t know which ones did it.” He argued weakly. He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Fred or himself. 

Fred gave a hollow laugh. “I’ll kill all of them then. I don’t fucking care anymore. It’s what they deserve.” 

George’s hand twitched, aching to grab his own wand. He probably would have, if Ron’s breathing hadn't hitched, calling George’s attention. He looked down at their brother a moment longer, then sighed. 

“We can’t.” 

Fred stood up straighter. “ _Why?_ ” He hissed. 

George glared back at him, shifting his hold on Ron. “I don’t think they deserve _any less_ than to suffer the _bloody Crucio curse_ until they _die_ , don’t fucking look at me like that. But Ron needs medical attention _now_ , no matter what he said. His fever is high as hell, and I'd bet my left arsecheek he’s got at least one infection. So, no, I don't think running up there in a murderous rage and getting in a fight with half a dozen Order members on top of the sodding Death Eaters is going to be helpful! So come over here and help me free him, before either of us do something that could put him in danger!” 

Fred glared back at him, practically snarling in rage. He stood for a moment longer, shaking, before he turned and punched the wall with a furious scream. 

George cringed, hearing the crack of at least one of Fred’s fingers. His twin took several, heaving breaths, hunched over against the wall for support. Then he straightened, and silently strode over to them. 

George nodded his thanks, though he got no reply. Not that he was expecting one. He turned his attention back to Ron, struggling to identify the chains in the dim light. 

“Check the wall, see how many manacles there are.” He instructed Fred. Fred nodded, running his hands along the wall as best he could, until he seemed to find something. 

“There's three lengths attached here, all on one post. I think that's it.” 

George nodded. “Come back here, then, I need you to use Alohomora on his arms and legs, figure out which three are tied.” 

Fred was crouching by them again in a second. It only took a couple strides to cross the tiny room, which was odd since the chains holding Ron were so long, probably each about twice the width of the room. 

“Alohomora.” Fred whispered, pointing to Ron’s right wrist, the one closest to the wall. George heard the manacle fall to the floor with a clang, a similar noise coming from where Ron’s right ankle was a moment later. 

But no third came. 

Fred scowled, groping at Ron’s other leg. “There's nothing here.” 

“You’re sure there were three?” 

“Positive.” 

George glanced down at Ron again. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he moved his wand to illuminate lower, Ron’s neck and chest instead of just their three faces. 

What was hidden in shadows and missed in panic before became clear now. There was another manacle- a _collar,_ secured around Ron’s neck. The skin around it was bruised, as if someone had pulled him by it. And there were other strange marks around it, almost circular with a space in the middle, like someone had wrapped a chain around his throat. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill them.” George growled. He couldn't quite see Fred, but he could feel the anger and agreement radiating off him. 

George swiftly preformed Alohomora on Ron’s neck, carefully taking the metal off as to not hurt his brother before throwing it across the room. There were more circular bruises under where the collar had been too, meaning Ron had probably been choked with a chain before the collar was forced upon him. 

George forced down his own expanding rage again. He couldn't let himself be distracted. He gingerly gathered Ron into his arms and stood, holding him in a sort of princess-carry. Ron was concerningly light, significantly more so than before he left the Burrow. 

How long had he been there? 

“Ready to go?” Fred asked. His voice was still angry, though more contained.

George nearly nodded at his brother, prepared to Apparate to Shell Cottage, when something dawned on him. 

“His wand.” George whispered as the realization hit. “He needs his wand Fred.” 

“ _Fuck_.” Fred cursed, rubbing at his face. George looked up at the floor above them. The fighting had been done for a while now, and any stray Death Eaters should be contained, most likely tied up until they could be moved. 

Even then, he still didn’t want to bring Ron into it. Didn’t want to be near those who tormented him and search for his brother’s lost wand, because he knew a simple comment would make him snap and kill someone. 

“We’ll have to come back for it.” George said, finally. “They confiscate any wands they find, so we’ll just need to get it from Kingsly. If he doesn't have it, we’ll search the place.” He was rambling partly to himself, trying to pretend the very real possibility that Ron’s wand was snapped couldn't have happened. 

Fred nodded. “Alright then. I’ll stay here a minute longer, send Kingsly a Patronus.” 

George nodded, sending his twin a tight smile. Then he adjusted his hold on Ron, and Disapparated away. 

-=+=-

When George Apparated to Shell Cottage he had to wait barely a minute before Fred appeared next to him, landing mid-run and going straight to get Bill. 

Their eldest brother had rushed outside, dozens of questions on his lips that George had no idea how to answer. Eventually they’d managed to get Ron inside and on a guest bed, after Fred had snapped at Bill to _stop talking while their brother was dying_. 

Flur had forced them all out while she worked, saying they would just get in her way. Fred had to be quite literally dragged from the room, and wouldn't calm down until Bill threatened to force feed him a sleeping potion. 

From there, all they had left to do was wait. George filled Bill in on what had happened, since Fred refused to speak to him, and Bill went back to get Ron’s wand. While Bill was obviously angry and worried, it was nothing close to the murderous rage still engulfing both twins, so it made the most sense. 

And yes, despite how calm he seemed, George was _furious_. His hand kept twitching towards his wand, and it was all he could do not to Apparate to wherever those _bastards_ were being held and _Crucio_ _every one until he found out_ _who_ _had done this and_ _killed_ _them._

But despite how hard it was, George couldn't let himself do that. He’d gone into this war prepared to kill if necessary, but there was a difference between killing in the heat of battle and murdering someone for revenge. He wasn't sure if he did he could ever look his mother in the eye again if he did. 

Eventually Flur had let them back in, with strict instructions not to wake Ron. She’d healed the dozens of minor wounds all over him with little issue, but there was still a nasty injury on his right hip, and the wound covering most of his left shoulder and upper arm was infected. 

The only other notable thing was his hands. Though she could heal the broken bones and dislocated knuckles, the tips of his fingers where his nails had been wouldn't heal. Some sort of dark magic, she guessed, though it was likely they’d heal on their own. 

So for now, all they could do was sit by Ron’s bed and wait. 

George had been sitting here long enough that his back was starting to hurt, but he had no intention of moving. Fred had been sitting next to him the whole time, hunched over with his elbows propped up on his knees. Both of them were exhausted, but they refused to take Bill’s offer of the second guest room until they were positive Ron was alright. 

Bill would pop in every few minutes, but he never stayed for more than a moment or two. Fred was still angry, a little at Bill, but mostly at those that did this. Even then, tempting a Weasley’s anger, especially when one of their own was hurt, was never a good idea. 

On the bed, Ron started to shift. George shot up, Fred doing the same beside him, and both rushing to the bedside. 

As Ron’s eyes fluttered open, George couldn't keep the wide grin off his face, the relief he was feeling indescribable. 

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.” 

Ron blinked at them a moment, mind still muddled with sleep. He sat up with a grimace, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Guys…? Where are we?” Ron asked. 

“Shell Cottage.” Fred told him, arms crossed. “We rescued you.” 

“Oh.” Ron suddenly went very pale. “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

George summoned a bucket and forced it into Ron’s arms, cringing when Ron dry heaved into it. After a bit Ron stopped, breathing deeply into the bin. 

“You good, mate?” Fred asked, his hand on their brother’s shoulder. Ron gave a jerky nod, putting the bucket to the side and pushing off Fred’s arm. 

“I have to go.” He announced, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

“ _What?_ No you don’t!” Fred huffed, pushing Ron back down with a firm hand to the chest. 

“Geoff me!” Ron snapped, trying to push off Fred’s hand but failing. 

“Have you gone batty!?” George asked him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Ron sat back up when Fred finally straightened, crossing his arms but thankfully not trying to stand again. 

“I can’t just sit here lollygagging around! I need to go find Harry and Hermonie!” Ron insisted, though there was a touch of desperation in his voice. 

The twins shared a look. 

George sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Ron, do you really think going out like this will be helpful to _anyone_? What do you think you’re going to do, go running off into battle with a bum arm? Kill You-Know-Who with a fever?” 

Ron’s scowl only deepened, his metaphorical hackles rising. “I don’t see why not.” 

Fred pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll tell you why, you _absolute idiot_. Because if you try to stand again I swear to Merlin himself I _will_ put you in a full body bind curse.” 

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn't dare.” 

“Try me, little brother.” 

Ron let out a frustrated scream, hitting the bed in anger. “Why do you even care?!” 

The twins stared at him, then each other in shock. George stood slowly, looking at Ron with a mix of anger, hurt, and annoyance. 

“Are you _absolutely_ insane?” George asked. 

Ron bristled. “ _Excuse_ me?” 

“Are you insane?” George repeated. “Because I’m fairly sure you just asked us why we would care about our _brother’s_ health after seeing him practically _dying_ chained in some _bloody fucking basement_ after being _tortured_!” He roared. 

Ron stood his ground, keeping his gaze level with George’s. “Yes.” 

George turned to his twin. “I’m gonna kill him Fred. Honest to god, I’m going to kill him. And then I need you to kill me to avenge him.” 

“We’ll have to kill each other in that case, because I’m quite sure I’m about to join you in strangling this git.” Fred said, leveling Ron with an irritated glare. 

“Would you two stop messing around?” Ron huffed.

“Oh we’re completely serious.” Fred deadpanned. 

“The only way to save yourself is to explain your current bought of madness.” George finished. 

“ _Then_ will you let me leave?” Ron demanded. 

Fred looked at him blankly. “Not in the slightest. You’ll be lucky if we let you stand within the next week.” 

Ron huffed, turning away and crossing his arms like a petulant child. George was suddenly hit with how _young_ Ron looked, and how young he felt himself. 

He sunk back into the bed, all the fight flowing out of him. 

“You can’t seriously think we wouldn't care.” He said, voice quiet. “You’re our _brother_.” 

Ron’s shoulders shook. “I don’t know _what_ to think anymore. For so long I told myself again and again, ‘of course they care, they’re family!’ After every fight and every prank I’d let it go ‘cus we’re brothers. But then the only time you’d ever even _speak_ to me is if you needed something or wanted to mess with me, and the pranks were happening every single day and it was just like _everyone_ else who _never_ talked to me unless they had too cus they _hated_ me. And I _tried_ to deny it, I tried _so fucking hard_ , but any time I did that _stupid fucking thing_ would start _screaming_ in my head and pointing out _every little thing_ everyone _hates_ about me!” 

And with his final breath Ron broke off into heaving sobs that racked his whole too-thin body. George pulled him close, letting Ron sob into his chest like a child, and tried not to cry himself. Fred came over and sat next to them, draping his arm over Ron’s back. George stared firmly at the wall, not able to handle having to see the look on his twin’s face. 

Eventually Ron’s crying stopped, and he pulled away wiping at his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I know you guys care, I know no one hates me. It’s that stupid thing it- it’s in my head. Takes every tiny insecurity and blows it up to a thousand.” Ron said, refusing to look them in the eye. The other two shared a look over his head. 

“What thing?” Fred asked, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. 

“The Horcrux.” Ron admitted in a whisper, after a long moment. 

“Like the notebook?!” George asked, horrified. 

Ron’s head shot up. “How did you know that was a Horcrux?” 

“We learned about them when researching other spells for our store.” Fred explained. “But why the _hell_ were you touching one? Where did you even find one?!” 

Ron cringed. “I shouldn't have…” He sighed. “Voldemort has seven of them. That's where we were going. To destroy them all. We found one but we don’t have any way to kill it yet so…” 

“You’ve been wearing it.” George finished for him. 

Fred scrubbed at his eyes. “Oh, lovely, so you _are_ absolutely crazy, and so are Harry and Hermoine. Brilliant.” 

Ron cringed again. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Oh shove it, will you?” George sighed, pulling Ron into another hug. Ron was limp in his arms, too surprised to wriggle away. 

“Look, I know none of us say it much, but we love you, you git. And don’t forget it just cus some Horcrux is whispering in your ear, alright?” 

Ron nodded into his chest, already hugging him back. “Alright.” 

Ron pulled away, and smiled at George. Then, before he could say anything, Fred grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug as well. 

“Fred!” Ron half whined-half laughed. 

Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m allowed to hug my brother, even if he’s being a bleeding idiot.” His expression turned serious. 

“Ron, I need you to know we all care about you, we all love you, alright? Even if you sometimes get overlooked, which is shitty as hell but what happens in a big family, any of us would kill for you. We love you.” 

“I know.” Ron said, choked. “Like I said, it was the Horcrux making me thing all that.” 

Fred nodded, though both him and George knew that there had to be at least some basis for this, some insecurity for the Horcrux to feed on. It was definitely nothing as bad as legitimately thinking your whole family hated you, if he did his Horcrux-altered thoughts would be _much_ worse, something George didn’t even want to think about. 

George nudged his twin, sharing a look with him. Fred nodded, and tilted his head to kiss the top of Ron’s hair before releasing him. 

Ron shoved him away, red in the face. “I’m not a baby!” He huffed, though there was no malice behind his voice. Fred stuck his tongue out at their brother, standing from where he was half-sitting on the bed. 

“That's very mature.” Ron said, sarcastic. 

“We’ve never been known to be mature, little brother.” George laughed, standing as well. “But since you’re not half-dead, we’re going to bed. It’s been a hell of a day.” 

Ron suppressed a yawn, half waving at them. “G’night, then.” 

George grinned, reaching out to ruffle Ron’s hair despite the other’s protests. “G’night!” He said, grinning wider at Ron’s glare, before following Fred out of the room. 

When the door was closed, both their smiles fell. Fred leaned up against the wall, exhausted. 

“How much of that do you think was the Horcrux, and how much do you think was him?” He asked. 

George sighed. “I don’t know. The everyone hating him was definitely the Horcrux. But there was one time he told me that he thought everyone just tolerated him, and we both know he has an inferiority complex bigger than England.” He sighed again. “I just thought he was over most of it by now. He’d been seeming fine lately.” 

Fred laughed darkly. “I don’t think any of us are quite fine.” 

George frowned. “I guess not. Not yet, at least.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chap is super short in comparison to the last one, just kinda how it worked out lol. Btw Dobby is alive. why? Cus i say so. (i’m not gonna be able to save everyone who died in the war but…. I Cant let my favs stay dead.) Hermonie was removed from the tags cus i meant to use her more tho i didn’t lol,,, (i love her i just forgot how out of it she was in this scene after being tortured) 

Harry sat on the floor with his back against the wall, the tea that had been forced into his hands having already gone cold ages ago. His thoughts were a whirlwind, focusing in on what he couldn't before in the confusion. 

After they’d escaped Malfoy Manor- everyone alive if not unharmed, thank Godric- to Shell Cottage and gotten the injured in bed, Bill had apperated to the Burrow to warn his parents. Bill assured them when he returned that they’d gone somewhere safe, which Harry was infinitely grateful for. Bill had then gone to warn the twins too, and about an hour later they’d appeared in the living room. 

Which made things a bit cramped, but it was better than the alternative. The two spare bedrooms of the house were being used, one split between Dobby and Griphook and the other taken solely by Hermoine, so the other members of the house were confined to the kitchen and living room. 

Flur had gone to bed about an hour ago, exhausted from all the healing she’d done. Harry felt guilty dropping all this on her and Bill, but Hermoine, Griphook, and Dobby needed help quite desperately. He hadn't been able to relax until after Flur had returned to the sitting area, assuring them all that while the three would sleep through till the next morning, they’d be fine. 

But now that Harry had allowed himself to relax and think about what had happened… he was reeling. Bellatrix’s words rung in his mind. 

_ "Wait. All except... except for the Mudblood." She’d smirked.  _

_ "No! You can have me, keep me!" Ron cried out, desperately trying to break free of the hold he was in.  _

_ Bellatrix smiled, almost sweet in a poisonous sort of way."What's the point? We’ve already had our fun. Though I’ll call you up after she dies under torture, it’ll be nice to finally kill you." _

_ Ron went even paler at her words, though he didn’t stop in his struggling. In fact, he seemed to struggle more, anger etched into his face.  _

_ But her words shook Harry. “What are you talking about!?” He had screamed at her, terror clawing at his stomach. She had to be lying, right? Trying to mess with their heads? Or so crazy she was hallucinating?  _

Harry never got an answer to his question. Bellatrix ordered them to be thrown downstairs, and Ron had started banging on the door, trying to be let out to save Hermione. And then Dobby appeared, and there was so much going on that the exchange had slipped from his mind. 

But now… now that they were free, now that everyone was safe, the question burned at his throat like bile. 

As much as he feared the answer… Harry needed to know. He couldn't… couldn't  _ live  _ with himself if he just let himself forget it. 

So he forced himself to stand, and stumbled over to the kitchen on unsteady legs. Ron was at the table, head lying in his arms. Fred sat across from him, while George leaned against the wall, his hand propped up on Ron’s shoulder. Bill was putting on another pot of tea, and smiled when Harry entered. 

“Refill?” He asked, his smile tired. 

Harry shook his head, putting his mostly full cup on the counter. The tea sloshed around from how much Harry’s hands shook, spilling a bit. 

He focused in on Ron, knowing if he didn’t ask his question right now he’d never get the words out. 

“What Bellatrix said, was it true?” 

Ron shot straight up, the blood draining from his face in under a second. 

“Harry-” 

“ _ Was it? _ ” Harry cut him off, a touch of desperation to his voice. 

“What did she say?” George asked, glancing between the two of them. 

Ron stood so fast his chair fell over. “Harry _ don’t. _ ” He begged. 

Fred stood. “Don’t tell us  _ what? _ ” He asked. 

Ron didn’t respond, staring at the ground with an eerily silent sort of resolution. 

Harry shut his eyes, dizzy all of a sudden. He took a deep breath. 

“She said there was no point to take him over Hermione. That they’d already had their fun.” His voice broke. 

He opened his eyes. From the edge of his vision he could see Bill sink to the ground, head in his hands. George’s face lost all its color, and he stepped forward to grab onto Ron, looking like if he didn’t have the support he’d fall. 

Fred had gone beet red, his fists clenched by his side. He started mumbling to himself furiously under his breath, pacing back and forth. 

He whirled on Ron. “It’s a lie, right? She’s just so crazy she has no idea what she’s talking about, right?!” He demanded, his voice just as desperate as it was angry. 

Ron still wouldn't meet anyone’s eye. “It’s true.”

Bill let out an anguished noise from where he was on the floor. Harry’s dizziness intensified, like Ron’s words had made the room start spinning around him. 

Fred stood there a moment, processing what Ron said. “ _ Fuck _ this.” He swore, before stalking out of the room and slamming the front door. 

George sighed. He pulled Ron into a proper hug, obviously shaking. Then he whispered something to Ron that Harry couldn't hear, and followed Fred out the front door. 

Ron seeed to shake himself, then moved over to crouch near Bill. Harry distantly realized he was watching a rather private moment between family, but he was in too much shock to do anything. 

“Bill?” Ron questioned softly, shaking his brother’s shoulder. After a moment Bill slowly forced himself to stand, and pulled his brother into a bone crushing hug. 

“Her… I didn’t know it was  _ her _ .” Bill rasped. 

“I didn’t want you too.” Ron said softly. 

Bill’s face crumpled. “Why  _ her? _ ” He asked, fresh tears joining the ones dried on his face. 

He took a few shuddering breaths, squeezing ron tighter again. Then he mumbled something to ron, and walked off to bed in a haze. 

Harry suddenly realized he was alone in the kitchen with ron. He licked his lips, still reeling. 

“How?” He croaked. 

Ron shrugged. “I said the snatures held me up, and when I came back you guys were gone, right?” he gave a low, humorless chuckle. “Well, I forgot to mention they held me up for a couple weeks.” 

Harry’s vision began to swim, as everything clicked into place and the world crashed down around him. 

Ron’s look of shame turned to one of surprised concern. He took a step forward, arms up as if to catch harry in case he fell. 

He didn’t get the chance to, though. Harry made a run for the sink, retching into it. 

Ron cringed behind him. He walked over and rubbed Harry’s back, handing him a towel when he finished. 

Harry wiped his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Ron shrugged. “I was ashamed. I’d just came back after being a total prick. I didn't deserve you caring about me. “ he shut his eyes. “And I… I didn't want you knowing how weak I am.” 

Sudden anger flared in Harry’s chest. He took three steps forward, and pulled ron into a bone crushing hug, shattering the barrier that had grown between them since ron’s return. 

Ron stumbled back slightly, surprised, his arms instinctively going around harry’s waist to keep from falling over. 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ call yourself weak.” Harry said, harsh. “And you don’t get to decide who I get to care about!” He took a shaky breath, burying his face in ron’s neck. His friend smelled like sweat and dirt and smoak, but Harry found he didn’t mind. 

“Please don’t keep stuff like this from me.” He croaked against ron’s skin, all his sudden anger gone. 

Ron swallowed, and his arms tightened around harry’s waist. “Alright.” 

The two stood together for a long while, just reveling in each other's warmth. Eventually Harry forced himself to pull away. 

“I’m sorry. I-I just.” He belatedly realized he was shaking. Without the strength of Ron’s arms holding him together, he was sure he’d fall apart. 

Ron’s hand rose to Harry’s face, his thumb running under Harry’s eye. 

“Don’t apologize.” He said, voice barely above a whisper. Harry choked back a sob, falling forward to bury his face in Ron’s neck again. 

Ron’s arms tightened around him. “Let's get ready for bed.“ 

Harry nodded into Ron’s chest. He let Ron pull away, the distance making him panic for a moment before Ron grabbed his hand. 

Ron led him into the other room, and handed him the small pile of old clothes Bill had left for them. It was probably a good idea to shower before they went to bed, but he was too tired, and the anxiety of not touching Ron for even the few minutes a show would take made him decide to put it off until tomorrow. 

Harry pulled the clothes on in a rush, not even slightly embarrassed to strip in front of his best friend. When he was younger he’d always leave the room, but after third year when he no longer called number four Privet Drive his home, he hadn't had any need. Three years of sharing a dorm with others and one of sharing a small tent tended to wear away at one’s modesty.

The second he was dressed, Harry grabbed onto Ron’s hand again. He knew he was being clingy, but he truly didn’t care. The mere thought of not touching Ron right now was unbearable. After what had been revealed, he needed to keep reminding himself that Ron was right there, that he was  _ alive _ . 

Ron seemed to understand. He let Harry clutch onto his arm, and used the other to charm the pull out couch into its bed form. Some sheets that had been folded inside of it unwrapped themselves, magically fitting into place with a preciseness that reminded Harry of Ron’s mother. 

_ God _ , Ron’s mother. Did she know what had happened? It seemed like his brother’s did but that didn’t mean much. Harry knew the twins had been spending a decent amount of time here, and if Ron’s half-truths were to be believed, he probably came here after he escaped. But what if he’d been killed? What would Harry have done, having to explain that Ron had been murdered the second he let him out of his site to his grieving family? 

It would have destroyed him. 

Ron squeezed his hand, seemingly able to sense Harry’s spiraling thoughts. Harry felt instantly calmer. He couldn't dwell on what-ifs, because Ron  _ wasn't _ dead. He was right here, holding Harry’s hand, and it was unfair for Harry to grieve just the  _ idea _ of him dying. 

Was this how others felt about him, seeing him almost die on a regular basis? He might owe Hermoine and Ron an apology. 

“Comeon.” Ron mumbled, leading Harry over to the pullout bed. Harry let himself be pulled away, shoving aside the whirlwind in his mind for a moment. 

Ron climbed into the bed, and Harry followed suit. He settled himself close to Ron, his head lying on his best friend's chest. Ron’s arms snaked around his waist, and Harry felt deep affection bloom in his chest.

Harry loved Ron. He’d loved him since that first day on the train, Ron’s bright smile bringing out his own, stale one, and his feelings only grew with each passing moment over the years. 

It wasn't until fourth year he realized that not only did he love Ron as a friend, he was in love with him too. The second task was a bit of a slap in the face, really. It just made clear what was right in front of him, that somewhere his platonic love had developed a second layer, a romantic love as well. 

And then Cedric died. And Harry realized he couldn't pursue  _ anyone _ , much less Ron. Being his best friend was a target enough, but being his boyfriend? If it got out, and Harry knew it would, he'd essentially be signing Ron’s death warrant. 

So, Harry pushed his feelings away. He  _ couldn't  _ let Ron be hurt. All he could do was hide his feelings, and prey that they both survived the war long enough for Harry to confess. He’d do anything to protect Ron, even break his own heart. 

Fat load of good that did. 

Death was always the thing he feared most. For his friends, mostly, Ron and Hermoine especially. He wasn't sure he could go on without them, at least not once the war was over. He would be lost. 

Harry had never understood when people said there were things worse than death. Of course he knew about torture, had carved words into his own hand and had learned of Nevile’s parents but… it never seemed so real. Never seemed like something they could go through, not for real. 

And yet, both his best friends had experienced it, from the enforcer of the Dark Lord herself, no less. 

He felt sick. Hermoine’s screams rung in his ears. She was completly out of it after less than an hour of torture and Ron… Harry had no idea what had happened to him. How much of his time was spent in the snatchers clutches, how much was him being tortured and how much was him just sitting, tied in some Death Eater base. What had actually happened before he escaped, beyond the vague pieces he’d put together himself. 

Harry felt a sudden desperation for knowledge, to know more about what happened. Even if the thought of what little he knew made him feel ill, he  _ needed _ to know. 

And along with that desperation, he felt a certain sort of anger too. An almost terrifying, cold sort of feeling. 

The desire to  _ kill.  _

He’d never hated someone so much as he did right now, not even Voldemort. He wanted nothing more than to hunt down Bellatrix Lestrange and kill her for what she did to his two best friends. 

The urge was terrifying. Harry felt almost frozen by his own thoughts, trying to make the right choice of two he never thought he’d ever consider. 

But then he felt Ron shift against him. And Harry relaxed because… Ron was alright. Hermoine was alright. 

Well, maybe not alright, but  _ alive.  _ And that's what mattered in the end. 

So, he let himself burrow in closer to Ron’s warmth. In the morning he’d have to explain everything to Hermoine, and demand answers from Ron and his brothers. 

But, for right now, he would sleep, reassured by the soft breaths against his skin and the feel of Ron in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, so sorry this is kinda short! i have other stuff planned tho, so don't worry lol 
> 
> btw i feel like i need to explain ron's brother's ractions, which basically boils down to knowing ur brother had been tortured and knowing he had been tortured by one of Voldemort right hand men is a Very diffrent experence
> 
> i was considering putting in some other scenes w/ fred and george but this chap was more about harry and ron and it didn't really fir in, so heres a little bonus summary of their pov 
> 
> -fred yells and runs outside  
> -george follows him and helps him chill tf out  
> -george cries a lil bit, half from pure fucking anger and half from like.... just knowing what happened to ron   
> -fred cried a lil bit too.   
> -can u blame them cus i would def cry in their position   
> -fred supports george and hugs him and stuff which i think is important to point out cus their relationship isn't like a one way thing, they're brothers and they take care of eachother, even if i've shown more of george taking care of fred lol   
> -they go inside and harry and ron are sleeping on the couch. they sit near them, and stay up all night guarding the two   
> \- harry wakes up a bit b4 ron and asks a few questions that they answer as best they can   
> -they ask harry to take care of ron, since they cant be there too  
> -harry obviously promises to do his best   
> -fin lol 
> 
> anyway! sorry for the long note! tysm to everyone who commented btw love y'all <3

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: next chap is gonna be a lot shorter but it’s basically gonna be harry finding out ron lied about getting away from the snaters and being Big Mad 
> 
> Also! I’m working on another fic that basically deals w/ how ron kinda deals w/ like a sort of death by a thousand cuts type thing w/ his fam that balances both like how they don’t mean to hurt him but a lot of little things add up to one big thing, while also still addressing that he’s not like,,,, a fragile child and they can still mess around w/ each other and be dickheads to each other cus thats legit what siblings do lol 
> 
> pls comment


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